


Gold and Steel

by fire_head_girl



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: M/M, Other, POV Juno Steel, Post-Episode: s02e34-35 Juno Steel and the Soul of the People, but also there will be a HEIST!, canon compliant... so far, i finally figured out how i'm gonna end this thing and i CACKLED, i think i'm getting the hang of how Juno monologues?, it's gonna be a slooooow burn so buckle up buttercups, lets find out, ok i lied it’s gonna be a semi-slow burn cause i’m impatient and also running out of plot, so there's a bit of angst because Juno, who knows how long it'll take to get there tho, will this be finished before season 3 starts?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-08
Updated: 2019-08-29
Packaged: 2020-01-07 02:29:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18401306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fire_head_girl/pseuds/fire_head_girl
Summary: “Hang on, they’re just computer files?” I blurted out. “Why can’t Rita hack in from the ship?”The big guy—sorry,Jet—offered an explanation. “The computer bank that houses the data we need is isolated from all networks. Without a physical connection to the machine, it is completely inaccessible.”“That’s intentional, of course,” Nureyev added. “With enough time and planning, my dear detective, there isn’t a database in the galaxy that a master hacker can’t access.”“…So they put it where the hacker can’t get to it in the first place.” I sighed. “A secure government space station.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Juno Steel and the Heart of Gold, part one

“Hello Juno, it’s been a while.”

For a moment that lasted an eternity, my mind raced. There were a lot of things I wanted to say to Peter Nureyev, explanations and questions and… apologies. And I had _no idea_  where to begin. 

“Ah, Jet Sikuliaq! Good to see you again, old friend. I brought you a gift.” Nureyev tossed a set of keys over in a high arc and slid off of the car. 

The big guy caught them in one fluid motion. “You did not have to do this for me.” 

“Perhaps I wanted to get you something nice,” Nureyev replied. “And besides, it’s not like Brock Engstrom will be using it any time soon. Even the Fortezza doesn’t allow for joyrides, and it would be _such_ a shame for the Ruby Seven to stay locked up too.” He flashed that fox’s smile that I knew so well, and something tight clenched in my chest. _Get a grip, Steel_. 

Throughout this exchange Rita had been frowning, staring at Nureyev so hard I thought she’d burn a hole right through his suit. Then suddenly, her face lit up with recognition. “AGENT GLASS?!?!? Whatta you doin’ here??? Oh! _OH!_ Are we teamin’ up with Dark Matters?!” 

“Oh, hello there!” Nureyev exclaimed. “Rita, wasn’t it? What a delightful surprise! Though I’m afraid Rex Glass was just a pseudonym—a rather useful one at the time, but I suspect that my connection with Dark Matters may have been burned. No, you can call me Julius Gold. It’s a pleasure to remake your acquaintance.” He stuck out his hand. 

“Alright, everyone,” Buddy cut in. “We can continue the introductions inside. We’re on a tight schedule.” 

*** 

The spaceship was… cozier than I would’ve thought. Buddy lead us through the cargo bay and into what looked like a living room. Lush tapestries on the walls, big couch full of pillows in one corner, worn wooden desk in another. Then up a flight of stairs to the galley, with soft yellow walls and a large round table that had apparently been serving as an impromptu war room, conference table, and communal dining space. I figured Buddy and Vespa had been living on the ship since I last saw them; I just didn’t expect it to feel so lived- _in_. It felt like… a home. Their home. 

And now it was mine, too. My name’s Juno Steel. I’m a – well, I don’t know what I am now. I’ve been a lot of things in my thirty-nine years on Mars: a hooligan, a cop, a private eye, a… fool. A partner, and a brother, and a son. But, now I’m leaving Mars behind for the first time, and that means I could leave all of those roles behind, too… if I want to. The million-cred question was, if I did – what would be left? 

We settled in around the table. “So. Rita, Julius, Juno.” Buddy looked each of us square in the eye as she spoke. “Thank you for joining us on this little adventure. I promise you will all be fairly compensated for your efforts; but, you should also know that by the time we’re through, I believe you will be rather proud of what we’ve accomplished here. Tell me, what do you three know about the space stations in orbit around Mars?” 

“Ariean Orbital Bases,” I answered. “There’re about half a dozen of ‘em, owned and operated in name by the Martian government—” 

“—because, of course,” Nureyev interrupted, “privately-owned orbital stations were outlawed in the 23rd century, after the Nadkarni Industries debacle—” 

“—which _means_ ,” I glared as I cut him off, “that really, they’re run by the only private corporations with big enough pockets to buy a senator or two. Supposedly, tons of top-secret cutting-edge tech gets developed there, away from the public’s prying eyes: everything from weapons to biotech to AI.” 

“It costs quite a bit to play mad scientist in space, apparently,” Nureyev mused. 

“Aaaanyway,” I continued, “some AOBs skew more military, some are more R&D, but all of ‘em are more heavily secured than the supermax suites in Hoosegow.” 

Buddy nodded. “Very astute of you, Juno. I have long suspected that the Cerberus Board of Fresh Starts leases real estate on one of these stations, and two months ago Vespa and I obtained the details to confirm it. The Cerberus Board runs a testing facility in the Deimos wing of AOB Four. We are going to break in and steal their research data.” 

“Oooooh, what kinda secret stuff are they workin’ on in there?” wondered Rita. “Oh! OH! Are they buildin’ transporters?? Or a _time machine?!?”_

Buddy smiled politely. “Not quite, darling. We have reason to believe that the Cerberus Board is developing a true cure for radiation poisoning—not a perpetual, ongoing treatment like their blood filtration system, but a permanent remedy, one that inoculates against all forms of radiation damage. You can imagine why they’d want to keep such a product a secret, of course—once they patent its formula, they could sell the cure at exorbitant prices to only the wealthiest Martian citizens, while continuing to hawk their filtration treatments to everyone else. Thus maintaining their slave labor force while increasing their net profit. And that thought does not sit well with Vespa. Or with me.” 

“We’re gonna take their work and broadcast it over every streaming channel in the galaxy,” Vespa said, simply. “No more secrets, no more enslavement. If there really is a way to free all these suffering people… we _have_ to find it.” 

I had to hand it to them, this was… not the direction I was expecting this job to go. Stealing medicine from the rich and giving it away for free, to the poor, poisoned masses? It was idealistic, unprofitable—not to mention insanely dangerous. Which meant it was right up my alley. 

I looked at the two incredibly powerful women standing at the head of the table. Vespa was all cold, steely determination, her arms folded and her face set. After what she’d been through, it wasn’t a surprise she’d want to take down the people who’d put her through it. But to walk straight into their heavily-guarded lair? That would take a lot of nerve. Buddy, on the other hand, was flame personified. The energy coming off her was palpable. This was her element, I could tell: finding the seemingly-impossible solution, sniffing out traps and sidestepping obstacles, guiding her team safely through the maze to the prize at the end. 

Buddy unrolled a blueprint across the table. The schematics for Ariean Orbital Base Four – whatever those two did to get their hands on that document wouldn’t’ve been easy, and it wouldn’t’ve been cheap. She glanced around the table at us, her biological eye sparkling. 

“First things first: we can’t dock our ship to the base directly, all docking ports require an access code and video clearance from base security, and I highly doubt they’d open up for a request to borrow a cup of sugar. So, we’ll get as close as we can, just out of their radar’s range, and launch the shuttle pod. We’ve got a decent radar cloaking program that should be powerful enough to cover the shuttle. There’s an unused minor airlock on the aft hull of the base, port side. The hatch will have been sealed off, of course, and a guard stationed on the inside, but no external sensors on the surface to alert them to our presence. 

“The AOB security team switches from the day to night shift at nine o’clock sharp. That is our _only_  window in. It is imperative that we time our arrival perfectly so that the hull is cut during the switch—if either guard hears anything suspicious coming from the airlock, they’ll call for backup and then we’re sunk before we’ve gotten through the door. 

“So.” Buddy tapped one perfectly manicured finger on the blueprint. “We will enter the base here, head down to the third floor, through this corridor to the Cerberus lab. The shell company they’re using as a cover is called the Olympus Institute of Biology and Technology, so look for a door with that name on its placard. Get in, copy all the data you can on the radiation cure, and get out. Guard patrols circle each floor every thirty minutes, so I strongly suggest we keep our visit short and sweet. 

“Julius, as our infiltration expert, will lead the team. Rita, darling, we’ll need you on site as well to download the data—” 

“Hang on, they’re just computer files?” I blurted out. “Why can’t Rita hack in from the ship?” 

The big guy—sorry, _Jet_ —offered an explanation. “The computer bank that houses the data we need is isolated from all networks. Without a physical connection to the machine, it is completely inaccessible.” 

“That’s intentional, of course,” Nureyev added. “With enough time and planning, my dear detective, there isn’t a database in the galaxy that a master hacker can’t access.” 

“…So they put it where the hacker can’t get to it in the first place.” I sighed. “A secure government space station.” 

Buddy continued her instructions. “Juno, you will stand guard at the entrance point and disable any guards that happen to stray from their assigned rotations. There’s a storage closet approximately fifteen feet away that should do nicely. Vespa, considering her proficiencies, will be the third and final member of the—” 

“Wait a second!” I growled. “If you think I’m letting Rita out of my sight for _one minute_ in just the company of an assassin and a master thief, you’ve got another thing coming.” 

“Awww, boss!!!” Rita blushed. “That’s so sweet, you worryin’ about me!” 

Buddy glared at me. “Yes, Juno. I am putting Rita in the protection of two of the most skilled members of this team, who _happen_ to be a thief and an assassin. And both of whom would surely tell you, from their considerable expertise in their fields, that the larger your party in this type of situation, the higher the likelihood of getting caught.” 

“Yeah, well…” I spluttered. “If they _do_ get caught, what then? If ANYTHING happens to her—” 

“I will take the guard post,” offered Jet. “Juno, if it will alleviate your concern—” 

“No no, dearest, that won’t do,” Buddy countered. “I need you to fly the ship; you know I’m not nearly as talented a pilot as you are.” 

There was a short pause, and then Vespa spoke up. “I’ll stand guard; Steel and Gold can take point with Rita.” 

“Really, now!” sighed Buddy, an exasperated look on her face. “Am I in charge of this operation or not?” 

“You are,” replied Jet. “That does not mean the rest of us have no say. That would be a dictatorship.” 

Buddy blinked, momentarily speechless. “…Yes, darling; yes, I suppose it would,” she conceded. “Alright, then. Vespa will take the guard post, Juno will accompany Julius and Rita to the target.” She put her hands on her hips. “Takeoff is in one hour. Vespa, Jet and I will continue preparations. The rest of you, entertain yourselves until then.” 

“Ah! Rita, my dear,” Nureyev purred, “if I could borrow just one minute of your time? I have a very small favor to ask. Miniscule, really. Buddy mentioned your prodigious talent in accessing Dark Matters’ servers undetected—remarkable work, by the way—and I was hoping you could perhaps look into something for me?” 

Rita giggled like a drunken schoolgirl. “Sure thing, Mista Gold.” 

“Could you please investigate the status of Rex Glass’ personnel file? If it’s not too much trouble, it may prove _quite_ beneficial to have his clearance reinstated. One never knows who they’ll run into in interplanetary space, and a Dark Matters Secret Agent could be an invaluable asset to our little crew.” Nureyev winked at her. 

“Sorry, Gold,” Vespa cut in, “but I want Rita to look over the code for the cloaking program first; see if she can make any upgrades. As is, it’ll hold just fine, but…” 

“Radar technology is constantly advancing, of course.” Nureyev nodded. “The better they get at detecting hidden ships, the better we must become at hiding them. By all means, Rita, please.” He bowed, with a little flourish, and I purposely did _not_ watch as Nureyev bent over. 

Jet gestured towards the hatchway leading to the front of the ship. “This way, Rita. Our main computer is on the bridge, and I am the primary pilot. We will be spending a great deal of time together.” His voice trailed off as he led Rita out. Vespa followed Buddy down a side hallway, and then we were alone. 

Me and… Peter Nureyev. And if I thought my heart was pounding before, when I first saw him perched on the hood of that car – well, now it was hammering a rhythm so loud I’d swear they could hear it on Neptune. What do you say to the guy you walked out on a year ago because it was too good to be true? The guy who offered so much more than you could possibly deserve, who gave without hesitation what you were too scared to take? 

He stood up to leave. I had to say something, but… what? “Nureyev, I…” 

“Don’t.” His voice was ice cold. “Call me Julius. Or Mr. Gold.” 

“O-okay.” Yeah, I probably deserved that. 

Nureyev sighed. “Listen, Juno. This is a dangerous operation we’re about to embark on. We cannot afford to become distracted by emotional baggage. I assure you, I will act in a thoroughly professional manner. I only ask that you do the same, so we can all get through this job intact.” 

“Right.” I swallowed. “Yeah. Professional. I can do that.” 

“And then afterwards…” For a split second, his eyes met mine. They were so bright, but something dark was rippling in them, just beneath the surface – I couldn’t tell if it was anger, or hurt, or hope. Maybe it was all three. Then he looked away and mumbled, more to himself than anything, “well, we’ll deal with that when we get there.” 

And then he was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She turned to glare at Nureyev and me. “If you morons get yourselves and Rita caught, I will be very angry. Trust me, you don’t wanna see me angry.”
> 
> Nureyev flashed her that sharp smile. “Vespa, my dear, you and I haven’t worked together before, so I understand that you may not know this about me: I _don’t_ get _caught_.”
> 
> “You better not,” she replied. “Now stay back while I take out the guard.”

The shuttle pod was about as big as my living room. About as cozy, too, but instead of week-old takeout containers and piles of dirty laundry, it was occupied by a bunch of power tools, some large wooden crates, and possibly the most mismatched crew I’d ever seen: a former bank robber-slash-assassin-slash-doctor; the master thief of a thousand disguises; my old secretary—who just _happened_  to be one of best hackers in the galaxy—and… me. En route to break into a heavily-guarded government space station, in order to steal a top-secret medical formula.

I sighed. Just another day in the life of Juno Steel.

“There.” Vespa announced. “We’ve got contact with the hull. Seal’s good.” Nureyev nodded, pulling on a pair of thick protective gloves. He knelt at the opening in the shuttle floor and picked up a blowtorch.

“Those are some heavy-duty gloves, _Gold_ ,” I snorted. “Afraid you’re gonna break a nail?”

“Not exactly. The temperature of the metal hull is roughly negative one hundred and fifty degrees Celcius – I’d rather not get frostbite, if it’s all the same to you,” replied Nureyev. “Besides, we might need these quick fingers later on.”

I, uhhh… I was very aware of what those quick fingers could do, but this _really_ wasn’t a good time to dwell on that. So I pushed those thoughts out of my head, and instead I watched as Nureyev squeezed a line of clear gel around the edge of the airlock hatch. It was precise, neat, perfectly controlled—just like every move he made as Julius Gold.

Gold was a master thief like Nureyev, I’d gathered that much. But how did he fit into the lives of these three outlaws? Was this just another job for him, a momentary burglar-for-hire before hopping an interstellar flight to the next planet and the next con? But– no, he had said something to the big guy on the loading dock of the ship, when we first arrived… Nureyev called him ‘old friend.’ Then, floating up from the depths of my memory, a fragment of a year-old conversation: _“I know an expert with a shop in the Cerberus Province. We’ll take the worst of it to him, and he’ll destroy it all for us.”_ Jet Sikuliaq was that expert, I realized. _That’s_ who Nureyev trusted with the Martian superweapon… and hell, if I had to pick a single person on this godforsaken rock that I could trust to disable that thing, the big guy would be pretty high on my list.

A series of beeps interrupted my train of thought. Before we’d taken off Vespa had set a timer counting down to the exact moment of the security guards’ shift change. Nureyev watched it, unblinking; as soon as it hit zero, he lit the blowtorch and started cutting through the welded-shut hatch.

“Alright,” Vespa said. “Once we’re in, you three stay behind me until I take out the night guard. Then hang a right, take the first stairwell down two flights, then go down the middle hallway and turn left.”

Nureyev pulled, and the hatch creaked open. A rush of air blew in and then: in the back corner of the airlock, nestled right under the ceiling, a green LED light flicked on. A security camera.

I didn’t think—I just raised my blaster and fired. The lens shattered, and the green light faded to black.

“Nice shot, detective!” Nureyev trilled.

It was a lucky shot, but I wasn’t about to admit that; especially when only an hour ago Vespa volunteered to stay behind so that I could go ahead with Rita. I didn’t need the others questioning my abilities—hell, I do more than enough of that myself.

“Ehh, I’ve been practicing. I’m still not the sharpshooter I was before I lost my eye, but…” I snuck a sidelong glance at Nureyev. “I’m getting better.”

“Move it, you three!” Vespa barked. We rushed into the airlock. “Security probably didn’t see anything before the feed got cut, but they’ll still send a team to investigate _why_ it got cut if we don’t fix that asap. Rita, can you tweak the feed? Make it loop an old clip of video?”

“O’course, Miz Vespa! Here, couldja just plug my comms cord into the camera port up there? I’d do it myself but it’s too high up an’ I can’t reach.” Rita typed furiously on her comms for about two and a half seconds, then announced, “Done!”

“The blueprint didn’t include security cameras in the airlocks,” Vespa grumbled nervously. “In the hallways, yeah, but we plotted a path that avoids them… What else did they ‘forget’ to tell us?” She turned to glare at Nureyev and me. “If you morons get yourselves and Rita caught, I will be very angry. Trust me, you don’t wanna see me angry.”

Nureyev flashed her that sharp smile. “Vespa, my dear, you and I haven’t worked together before, so I understand that you may not know this about me: I _don’t_ get _caught_.”

“You better not,” she replied. “Now stay back while I take out the guard.”

***

The three of us walked in silence for a bit: Nureyev in front scouting for guards, then Rita, then me. I glanced backwards every ten feet or so, but so far we weren’t being followed. So far everything was smooth… uneventful, even; but you wouldn’t know that from lookin’ at Rita. She was practically bouncing with excitement and I could tell she had about a thousand questions she was dying to ask. It was only a matter of time.

“So, Mista Gold,” whispered Rita, “is this really what bein’ a crook is like, just sneakin’ around? Only in the streams there’s usually explosions and gunfights and car chases and _sometimes_ there’s aliens like in _Brigands from Betelgeuse 2_ where the alien princess falls in love with the swashbuckling bandit and then they run away together to steal the—”

“Keep it down, Rita,” I hissed. “If we end up in a gunfight it means things have gone bad.”

“Exactly right, detective. Explosions and chase scenes make for thrilling theatrics on screen, I’m sure, but they tend to be much more dangerous in reality. And as such, I’d prefer to avoid them if we can.” Nureyev paused, listening intently, then signaled for us to follow.

“We should be close, right?” I started scanning the names on the doors as we passed. “‘Olympus Institute of Biology and Technology’… where are you hiding?”

“Ah, here we are!” Nureyev grinned. “Let’s see, now: the door has both both analog and electronic locks. I can take care of the former – Rita, dear, if you wouldn’t mind assisting with the latter? I’ve got a blank key card here that you should be able to program with the master passkey, if I’m not mistaken.”

Nureyev did his bit, Rita did hers, and seconds later we were inside. The place felt… almost abandoned. The first room was a laboratory: rows of tables full of beakers and microscopes and jumbles of equipment. But there was a faint layer of dust over all of it. The next room housed a series of computer banks on one side and a row of storage lockers on the other. It looked like it had gotten more use than the lab, but—

“Ah, this computer houses the primary database, I believe,” said Nureyev. “Shall we?”

Rita plugged something Buddy had given her into the bottom of the screen and got to work. A… finger drive, I think they called it? Doesn’t matter; Rita was typing away, which meant she was about to start chattering away, unless I could find a way to stop her.

She sighed. “Oh, I _really_ should’a brought some snacks with me. I dunno how anybody can concentrate on work if they ain’t snackin’ or watchin’ streams or anythin’. I mean, how do ya focus without somethin’ else to do? Guess I’ll just hafta entertain my little old self.”

Uh oh.

“So!” Rita glanced over at Nureyev, who was currently rifling through one of the now-unlocked storage lockers. “ _Mista_ Gold.”

“Hm?” Nureyev looked up.

“ _Agent_ Glass. Hey, how many secret identities have you got, anyways? Ooh! Are any of ‘em superheroes? Or _vampires?_  I just love talkin’ to new people ‘cause everyone’s got a story, ya know? Or lotsa stories, usually: sad stories and funny stories and adventure stories and ghost stories and fantasy stories and— oh, no, wait, I’m thinkin’ of the _Stories of Saturn_ stream channel. Aaaaanyway, tell me _everything_ about yourself.”

Nureyev chuckled. “Well, I can’t tell you _everything_ , Rita—that would negate the ‘secret’ part of secret identity, now, wouldn’t it? But, I will try to answer your questions honestly, insofar as I can. What exactly would you like to know?”

Rita frowned. “Hmmm… well, where are you from? D’you come to Mars for work a lot?”

“The Outer Rim, originally,” answered Nureyev. “And as for visiting Mars, not recently. I had… made a promise to someone.”

My stomach dropped like a body tossed off a Hyperion highscraper.

Nureyev let out a hollow chuckle. “I intended to keep it, I really did, but then…” He trailed off, cleared his throat. “Jet and Buddy are good friends of mine, friends I hadn’t seen in a while. I thought it would do me some good to spend time with them again.”

“Aw, that’s real nice that you got friends you can work with. My ma always said, love who you work with an’ you’ll never work a day in your life. Or, somethin’ like that. I dunno.” Rita shrugged.

I checked the clock. “One minute, Rita,” I warned. “We’ve gotta get moving before the next scheduled guard patrol.”

“I know, boss, I know!” she snapped. “I’m goin’ as fast as I can, and I’m almost… huh.”

“‘Huh’ what?” I asked. She didn’t respond, and that made me nervous. “ _Rita?”_

“Oh! Uh, it looks like there’s a hidden partition on this drive,” she explained. “It shouldn’t even be visible to anyone without director-level access, but when I ran a search for—”

“Thirty seconds, Rita, let’s go!”

“Okay, okay, geez, lemme just…” she typed frantically for a few more seconds. “Got it! That’s all the files copied and— uh oh.”

I didn’t get a chance to ask what she saw, because just then an alarm went off; a loud klaxon wail and a recorded message: “ _WARNING. INTRUDER ALERT ON. LEVEL THREE_.”

“Let’s move!” I yelled. We sprinted out of the lab and down the hall. At the end of the corridor, I yanked my blaster out of its holster and dropped to one knee to steady myself. I needed every edge I could get to make the first shot. I held my breath. There was too much on the line to lose.

I heard their heavy footsteps echo down the hall before I saw them: two huge guards in laser-proof vests, headed straight this way. So I aimed my blaster just below the vest, and fired. The first one dropped like a sack of bricks, which made a convenient stumbling block to send the second one flying. In a flash, Nureyev was behind them, forearm tight against their windpipe until the guard passed out.

“Quickly, now, this way,” Nureyev ushered us into the stairwell and we booked it back up to the top floor.

“You…” I panted, “you didn’t stab that guard, Gold.”

“Is that a critique, detective?” quipped Nureyev.

“No, I’m…” I struggled to find the right word. Surprised? Impressed? Relieved? “You could’ve killed them, but you didn’t.” We reached the top of the stairs, and then I could hear blaster fire through the door. A _lot_ of blaster fire.

“Let’s discuss it later, shall we? It sounds like Vespa may require our assistance.”

***

Two minutes later we were back in the shuttle. Turns out Vespa didn’t need much assistance at all—we opened the door to a hallway full of a dozen limp bodies and Vespa’s blaster making it a baker’s dozen. We ran back to the shuttle pod, Nureyev slammed the hatch behind us, and Vespa blasted us off towards the ship. We made it. We were headed home. Until…

“Um, Vespa dear?” There was a hint of concern in Nureyev’s voice. “How skilled are you at evasive maneuvers? Because the laser cannons on the station’s hull appear to be activating.”

Rita jumped up and rushed to the copilot’s console. “Oh no they ain’t, not if I can stop ‘em!” I don’t think I’d ever seen her type that fast—maybe this new lifestyle suited her better than she thought. “Let’s see here, defense program… standard security layers, okay, there we go… ha! This targeting software’s almost fifty years old, jeez, ya think the Martian government could afford an upgrade or two, what with the taxes on junk food these days…” She hit a button, the console beeped, and the cannons that had been pointed this way started spinning wildly. Just in time to send a shower of laser bursts into deep space instead of right at us.

“Excellent timing, Rita!” Nureyev trilled. “Juno, I think I’m starting to understand your success rate as a PI.”

“Hey, I do stuff too!” I shot back. “Like… okay, _fine_ , you’re right, I’d be a mess without Rita.”

Nureyev raised an eyebrow.

“...A bigger mess. Whatever. Anyway, I’m not a PI anymore, so she’s not my secretary anymore. Now we’re just… part of the team, I guess.”

Vespa smiled. “Glad to have you both. Now – let’s go home.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Colleagues_. The word rattled around my brain like a bad joke. So, that was all he wanted now—someone to work with, someone to help him steal and lie and… and, ugh, again with that _stupid_ alias. Peter Nureyev was pushing me away, using his fake name as a wall to shield himself off from me. I didn’t deserve another chance with him, and I certainly didn’t expect him to give me one. I blew it the minute I walked out of that hotel room, and I know that. But I just—
> 
> I had to try.
> 
> “What,” my heart was pounding. “What about Juno Steel and Peter Nureyev?”

I couldn’t sleep.

After we got back to the ship, Buddy congratulated us on a job well done, took the drive from Rita, and said we’d review the data first thing in the morning. Then Jet showed us to our cabins and told us to get some rest.

I tried. I don’t know if it was the recycled air of the spaceship, leftover adrenaline from the job, proximity to… the others, or what; but, after a few hours of tossing and turning, I gave up and headed to the galley in search of something to take the edge off. It turned out I wasn’t the only one with insomnia, though – I walked in to find Nureyev curled up with a mug of tea, staring out the window into deep space. Great. _Just my luck_ , I thought. I hurried over to the pantry, grabbed the first bottle of booze I could find, and turned to leave, when—

“Are you really going to drink that entire bottle alone in your room, Juno?”

I froze. Then I got mad. “Who said anything about the whole bottle?! I’m havin’ a drink, sure, and I, well, I wasn’t exactly planning on having company, so, my room it is. You got a problem with that?”

Nureyev blinked. “You’re not holding a glass.”

Oh. Right.

I turned back to grab a glass and then headed for the door, feeling Nureyev’s eyes follow me the whole time – like the laser scope of a sniper rifle.

“Juno…” he sighed. “We should probably talk.”

“Talk?” I laughed nervously. “Wh-what’s there to talk about? I haven’t been keeping up with current events lately and there’s no weather in space, so…”

He closed his eyes. “Juno, please. Just… sit.”

Nureyev shifted in his chair to look at me. “When I accepted this job from Buddy and Vespa, I did not know you and Rita would be joining us. I assure you, if I did, I would not be here. I returned to the ship last night shortly before Jet arrived with you two, at which point Buddy informed me of the… additions to the crew. I didn’t think it would be fair to them to bow out on such short notice.

“I also meant what I said earlier, about wanting to see Jet and Buddy again. They are good friends and good people, and I would like to continue this job with them for the time being. That being said: I don’t know your motivations for becoming a part of this team, but, from what I do know about you, I can’t imagine it was a decision you made lightly. So, if this job is important to you as well, then it would behoove us both to figure out how to… work together again.”

Working together. With Peter Nureyev. Part of me wanted nothing in the galaxy more than that, to glance across a room full of goons and guns and see him looking at me like he just knew we’d beat ‘em all. That we’d conquer the world together, Nureyev and me, and we’d do it with style. And sure, that’s just a fantasy; there are no happy endings in life. I know that, now. But for the first time in… a long time, I wanted to believe that fantasies could come true.

I took a deep breath and stared at a spot on the table. An old coffee stain, by the looks of it. “I’m… sorry.” My voice cracked. “For walking out on you. It was a shitty way to leave, I know.”

“Thank you,” he replied. “I forgive you.”

“You… do? Just like that?”

“I was quite hurt when I awoke and saw you had left, Juno, I won’t lie to you. But… it’s in the past, now.” Nureyev hesitated. “If you would indulge me, however, I would like to know why you _said_ you wanted to leave with me, then.”

“Because I did! I really did _want_ to, but I…” I struggled to find the right words. “It was too good to be real. Too good to have happened to me, and one day you’d wake up and realize that. That I’m not… worth it. That you could do better, that you deserved better.”

He was silent for a moment; his expression was indecipherable. Then, under his breath, he sighed, “oh Juno, you impossible idiot.”

“Hang on.” I frowned. “Why did you think I left, then?”

Nureyev shrugged. He took a long swig of tea, then spoke quietly – more into the mug than at me. “Honestly, for a while I wondered if perhaps you lied to me to just… get what you came for and leave.”

“What?!” I growled. “What I _came for_ — the hell kinda lady do you think I am?”

“I don’t know, Juno.” He gave me a small, sad smile. “You didn’t give me very much opportunity to find out.

“But, that’s not the point. I am willing to put this all behind us, if you are. Start fresh, as… colleagues. I think that with a bit of practice Juno Steel and Julius Gold could make quite a formidable team.”

_Colleagues_. The word rattled around my brain like a bad joke. So, that was all he wanted now—someone to work with, someone to help him steal and lie and… and, ugh, again with that _stupid_ alias. Peter Nureyev was pushing me away, using his fake name as a wall to shield himself off from me. I didn’t deserve another chance with him, and I certainly didn’t expect him to give me one. I blew it the minute I walked out of that hotel room, and I know that. But I just… I had to try.

“What,” my heart was pounding. “What about Juno Steel and Peter Nureyev?”

“I– I don’t know, Juno.” He looked at me with those bright, bright eyes, and the pain in them was clear. I had done that, I realized. I had hurt him, deeply, when I left him in that hotel room—and that thought made me want to throw myself out an airlock. Sure, I figured Nureyev would be mad; hell, he had every right to be. But, he’d get over it when he realized he was better off without me, that I’d only get in the way and drag him down. He was supposed to forget me and move on, and I… I would take my lumps and head back out into the big, mean world. Try to make it a little less mean for someone else.

“You’re asking me to trust you with my heart after you’ve gone and broken it, you know,” he said quietly. “I believe there’s an old Earth aphorism for that – fool me once…” He trailed off and looked away.

I swallowed. “Right. Okay.” I stood up to leave. I needed to get out of there before I did something stupid; I was almost at the doorway when Nureyev called out.

“Detective? That’s… not a no.”

A tiny flicker of warmth sparked in my chest. I nodded. “Okay.”

***

I stumbled out of my room around mid-morning. Everyone else was already up, it seemed, so I made my way to the bridge… aaaand I only got lost once on the way there. Damn ship’s too big, and all the hallways look the same. Anyway—Rita was at the console, typing; Buddy and Vespa stood right behind her, holding hands. They looked nervous. Jet was sitting in the pilot’s chair but he was facing Rita, his face unreadable as usual. The big guy could play a helluva statue if the opportunity arose. And then Nureyev, leaning against the wall with all the grace and elegance of a goddamn cat.

Then Rita spoke up. “So what are we lookin’ for in these files? Now, I ain’t no doctor, but I _have_ seen every episode of _Martian Medical_ at least five times, so I do know a thing or two abo—”

“Lemme see.” Vespa leaned over Rita’s shoulder and started scrolling through the data. “…There’s no finished formula here. Looks like a lot of failed starts, but nothing viable. They aren’t even _close_ to a working cure…” Without warning, she spun around and punched the nearest wall. “Dammit. _Dammit!_ All that work for nothing.”

The silence was so heavy you’d need a forklift to clear it. No one spoke, but everyone was thinking it: _now what?_

Well, almost everyone.

“Hey, what’s this last file here?” Rita blurted out. “Looks like a null byte, maybe a copy error or somethin’, but the format’s all wrong… hm. What if I—” She tapped the keyboard a few times, and then, “Ha-HA! A secret embedded audio clip! You can’t hide from _Rita!”_

She hit play.

Looking back on it now, this was the moment where it all started—that first hazy glimpse of the bigger picture, the thread you pull that starts the whole ball unraveling. How could we have known what we were getting ourselves into? We were just lookin’ for a radiation cure. Save a bunch of sick people, maybe take down a corrupt company in the process. But this… it was the edge of the rabbit hole.

We jumped in.

“Hello? Is this recording? …Ahem. This is Doctor Norbu, from the Olympus Bio Panacea lab. If anyone hears this, please, help us. I think… they’re just going to abandon us here. Because we failed.” There was a pause, then she cleared her throat and continued.

“We’re being held prisoner in a subsurface laboratory in the Arabia Terra region. The name of this file contains the exact coordinates. Nobody from the board has been here to check on our progress in over a month. They just left us with those… things. I don’t think they’re ever coming back.

“If anyone is listening, if you can help, please come. Get us out of here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *conductor voice* _If you’ve enjoyed this tale..._
> 
> [end of part one]


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My stomach dropped. I didn’t want to believe what I was seeing, but even then some part of me just _knew_.
> 
> And then I heard it. That voice. The one that echoed inside my head for all those months; and then in the sewers, in Newtown, in… Mick.
> 
> “Intruders. Detected. Please leave or. You will be. Terminated.”
> 
> My blood ran cold. I reached for my comms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Juno Steel and the Heart of Gold, part two
> 
> tw: brief discussion of imprisonment

It took the better part of a day to get to Arabia Terra. I was kinda surprised at how quickly everyone mobilized after Rita had played that file, but… I probably shouldn’t’ve been. Back in the Cerberus Province, Buddy had made her distaste for the Board of Fresh Starts and its management clear; Vespa obviously had plenty of reason to hate their guts; and Jet did basically whatever Buddy said without question. Still, unless these scientists we were about to rescue decided to pay us handsomely for the favor, this would be the second dead-end job in a row this team took on. I thought back to the conversation that morning after the recording ended.

Vespa spoke first. “We have to save them.”

“Of– of course, darling,” Buddy laid a hand on Vespa’s arm. “We will. I just can’t believe… imprisoning their own employees, enslaving the sick and the poor… who _are_ these monsters?” She cleared those thoughts with a small shake of her head, and then she was all business. “Rita, if you please: give Jet the coordinates in the filename. Dearest, plot a course to Arabia Terra—my estimation is that from our current position we should arrive in approximately six hours, is that right?”

Jet tapped the pilot’s console. “Five hours and forty-nine minutes at our maximum atmospheric speed.”

“Right. Do it.” Buddy stopped for a moment to think. “I don’t like going into a scenario blind if I can help it. Of course, sometimes it’s unavoidable: information is scarce, and time is of the essence here.” She furrowed her brow. “Rita, my dear.”

“Yeah, Miz Buddy?” Rita beamed at her. “D’you want me to download the blueprints for the lab?”

“That would be wonderful; however, if the mere existence of this facility was that closely-guarded a secret, I can’t imagine the floor plans will be particularly easy to find.”

I laughed. “You don’t know Rita.”

Buddy raised an eyebrow. “By all means, then, please. Bring me the blueprints and we will plan our attack that much more effectively. But, I was thinking more about the inhabitants of the lab. Please copy whatever you can find on this Dr. Norbu—particularly, a list of colleagues she may have on this project. I’d like to know how many hostages we are to save.”

Buddy Aurinko continued to surprise me. Someone who’d certainly killed before without remorse and likely had no qualms about doing it again, who made a living robbing her way across the galaxy and not looking back, and her primary concern on this job was ensuring the safety of complete strangers? _Why?_  And then I remembered Nureyev choking out the guard instead of slitting their throat, and… my head spun. These people were crooks; they’re supposed to be the bad guys—hell, Rita had pointed out as much when I asked her to come with me to work for ‘em. And yet I found myself stunned by the _good_ ness of their actions, again and again.

My name’s Juno Steel. I’m on a spaceship with a bunch of outlaws on the way to rescue imprisoned scientists from a secret underground lab, and I’m… starting to wonder how the hell I got here. I don’t know what I expected when I decided to call up Buddy and take her job offer; mostly I just needed to get out of Hyperion. I guess… I guess I figured I’d help Buddy and the big guy ‘relocate’ some stuff from people who may or may not have deserved it, try to keep the two of them from killing innocent bystanders, and have some downtime to think about what I was gonna do next. Who I was gonna be next.

I certainly didn’t expect to be face to face with Peter Nureyev. And yet—

“Are, you alright, Juno?” Nureyev asked. “You look exhausted.”

“Didn’t sleep much,” I grunted.

“Ah, yes, it can take some time to acclimate one’s biorhythms in space,” he nodded.

“Yeah, sure, that.” I glanced up at him. He looked geniunely concerned, so I forced myself to keep talking. “And… y’know, stuff on my mind. Regrets.”

“Oh, Juno…” he sighed. He lowered his voice so only I could hear. “Later, dear. We need to focus on the job, now.”

“Yeah, I know, I know.” I dropped my head. “It’s just…” I sighed, frustrated at myself. _Keep it together, Steel_. “It’s just a lot.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Nureyev’s hand twitch, like maybe he wanted to reach out and touch me—but whether it was to comfort or slap me was anybody’s guess. He didn’t end up doing either, though. He just stood there for what felt like forever before finally walking away.

***

Buddy, Vespa, Nureyev and I headed down the ramp of the ship and into the Martian desert. Out here without a Dome, we needed to get underground quickly, before the radiation effects got bad. Nureyev was holding a long pole with a disc on the end; I didn’t bother asking about it before, but when he started sweeping the thing in circles over the sand I couldn’t help myself.

“What are you _doing_ , Gold?”

“It’s a metal detector, detective,” he explained. “Ancient Earth technology; you’d be surprised at the range of scenarios in which it can be useful.”

All of a sudden the thing started beeping. “Ah! Here we are,” Nureyev grinned. He knelt down, felt around for a second or two, then pulled a big metal door up from under the sand. “After you, ladies.”

We climbed down the ladder into a tiny antechamber. While Nureyev picked the lock, I mentally reviewed the layout of the lab from the blueprints it had taken Rita all of thirty seconds to find. The living quarters were all the way in the back, and depending on how much security was behind that door, and how many of the five scientists Rita had identified were being held back there, this would either be a difficult job, or a _really_ difficult one. And there was only one way to find out which it was gonna be.

Nureyev eased open the door and crept inside to scout. After a couple seconds, he motioned for us to follow. We hugged the wall, ducking low beneath the lab tables and making as little noise as possible. We were maybe twenty feet in when, between the rows of benches and stools and equipment, I caught a glimpse of shiny chrome wheels rolling this way.

My stomach dropped. I didn’t want to believe what I was seeing, but even then some part of me just _knew_.

And then I heard it. That voice. The one that echoed inside my head for all those months; and then in the sewers, in Newtown, in… Mick.

“Intruders. Detected. Please leave or. You will be. Terminated.”

My blood ran cold. I reached for my comms.

“Rita!” I yelled. “There’s a Theia bot down here and I need you to take it down NOW!”

“A _Theia_ bot?!” she exclaimed. “But– but that means, Northstar—”

“I know what it means but we don’t have time for that right now, Rita!” I dove behind the nearest table as it turned its cannon arm on us.

“Okay, boss, okay! I’m on it!”

Instantly, Buddy and Vespa positioned themselves at either end of the aisle. They took turns shooting back at the Theia in perfect synchrony, switching between firing and taking cover without having to say a single word. But their blasters had no effect, and it was gaining on us, steadily. I started throwing junk in its path: chairs, boxes of files, the lab equipment off the desks… anything I could grab to try to slow the Theia down. It plowed through all of it like tissues.

Nureyev tugged on my sleeve. “Perhaps it’s time to retreat, now!” But I just couldn’t leave those people trapped in here with this thing. I _couldn’t_.

And then the Theia stopped.

“Sorry there. Mista Steel. And Miz Buddy. And everyone. That took longer than. I would’a thought.” Then it powered down and clattered onto the floor, just a massive puppet whose strings were finally cut.

I laughed, remembering that moment in the sewers below Oldtown when I heard Rita speak through the Theia—when I realized she was actually there with me. That I wasn’t alone. The memory felt good, and warm, and I held that warmth like a shield as we crept towards the end of the room. Then I thought of something.

“Rita, you still there?” I hissed into my comms.

“Yeah Mista Steel, is everyone okay?”

“Yeah, we’re good, thanks. Just in the nick of time,” I replied. “But, uh, can you use the Theia’s scanners and make sure there are no more guards before we head into the living quarters?”

“Sure thing, boss—there's actually two bots in there, the second one musta been keepin’ the scientists from escapin’. It’s still on but I froze it so it ain’t gonna shoot you or nothin’, I just thought if there were human guards too they might notice if their giant creepy robot collapsed all of a—”

I cut her off. “Yep, got it, just tell me what we’re dealing with here!”

“Okay, okay, jeez, I’m workin’ on it,” she grumbled. “Now solve for x, carry the one… Got it! I’m pickin’ up two heat signatures in the bunk at the back right.”

“Only two?” I frowned. “I thought you said there were at least four people on Norbu’s team.”

“I dunno, boss, I’m just tellin’ you what I’m see– oh! They’re movin’! Kinda slowly, but… they’re headin’ into the hallway…”

I punched a button and the door whooshed open. At the end of the hall, two figures flinched and then froze. The one in front, a woman, threw a hand up as if to shield the person behind her from us. Then she frowned, puzzled, and took one cautious step forward. I guess our little rescue party didn’t look much like the execs from the Cerberus Board.

“Doctor Norbu?” Buddy called out. “We got your message. We’re getting you out of here.”

***

Back on the ship, Buddy and Vespa guided the scientists through the cargo bay to the living-room-area… room. They collapsed onto the couch without a word; they looked exhausted, starving and sleep-deprived and just… beaten. _How long had they been in that makeshift prison_ , I wondered. On the way out, Dr. Norbu had introduced herself—“please, call me Annie”—and her colleague as Mal Gershwin. Neither of ‘em said much else, besides thanking us emphatically for rescuing them, and Buddy and Vespa didn’t pry.

Now Buddy strode over to the wall and pressed the intercom. “Jet, dearest, we’re on board. Take us into orbit, if you would, and then please prepare a large pot of tea and meet us in the common area. Anything but Jovian will do.” She turned back to the scientists, but just then Rita burst in.

“Mista Steel! Mista Steel! Are you alright?! You sounded so scared when you said there was a Theia bot and I just…” She barreled across the room and hugged me; it was more of a tackle than a hug, really.

I groaned and pried her off me. “Yes, Rita, I’m _fine_.” Then, under my breath so only she could hear, I mumbled, “thank you.”

“So, does this mean Northstar owns the Cerberus Board?” Rita wondered.

“They must, why else would there be Theias there?” I shrugged. “Christ, was there a single organization on the damn planet that Ramses _didn’t_ have his hooks in?” I frowned. “There was nothing about Northstar in the files you copied?”

“N-no… I mean, I don’t think so, boss. I can check again just to be sure…” She pulled out a tablet and started scrolling.

“Yeah. Do that, would you? And for the thousandth time, I’m not the boss anymore.”

A minute later, the big guy came in: humming to himself with a massive teapot in one hand and a serving tray in the other, full of cups and saucers and muffins and jam and squid cream and god knows what else. There was even a little flower in a vase in the middle of it, for chrissakes. I watched as he set it all down on the coffee table and started pouring tea like… like we hadn’t just broken into a secret lab under the Martian desert and rescued two hostages. Like he did this every day.

“Did—” I stuttered. “Did you just make all that stuff now?”

“I thought our guests might be hungry.” He turned to the scientists. “Are you hungry?”

Mal sat up straight. “Starved, actually.” They reached for a pastry. “Thank you, again, really… I honestly never thought anyone would come for us. Annie did, though.”

Annie nodded slowly. “But don’t think I’m not incredibly grateful for it.” She paused. “I suppose… you all have some questions about what exactly we were doing out there, and why our employer had locked us up.”

“Well,” Buddy said, “I think we have some idea. You were developing a cure for radiation poisoning, in secret, so that the Cerberus Board could make oodles of money off of it and restrict access to only those who can afford to pay top dollar. Only, I suspect they didn’t mention that last part when you signed on with them. Or their organization’s policy on handling delinquent projects.”

Annie laughed, a sharp, bitter sound; it was the laugh of someone who wanted to believe in something too good to be true and knew it was gonna hurt like hell when it wasn’t. “‘Delinquent projects’… yeah, that’s certainly one way to put it.” She sighed and looked around at us. “We really thought we had something. The first round of tests were promising, but…

“When we failed to produce a viable treatment, they just stopped coming. Started requesting all updates via comms call, then by email, then… the requests stopped altogether. The next day, those robots showed up.

“We ended up testing new formulas on each other because, well, we had no choice. The symptoms were getting bad, even underground. …There were five of us to start.”

The silence in the room then was thicker than Hyperion smog.

Jet was the first to break it. “You have endured a great deal.” A simple statement, an observation really, but the way the big guy said it made you feel… heard. Like he saw everything these two people experienced, the pain and suffering that others put them through for greed and profit, and that helped, somehow. It didn’t lessen the pain; but sometimes, just acknowledging it’s there is enough.

“So. Where would you like to go now?” asked Buddy. “I imagine all of Mars is out of the question; once the Cerberus Board realizes you’ve escaped, they’ll likely come after you. Our work is taking us to Proxima Centauri in the next few days; from there you should be able to catch a long-distance hauler to most of the major hubs in the galaxy.”

“That’s perfect,” Annie replied. “It’s more than we could have asked for. Thank you, again, for everything, I can’t say it enough—”

“Really, you can,” Buddy interrupted. “What was done to you was inhumane; it wouldn’t be right to leave someone in that situation. We were glad to be of service.

“Now, as for the question of lodgings—I’m afraid we only have one cabin left that isn’t already in use. This couch is also quite comfortable for sleeping, if you want to decide between yourselves.”

“Oh, um…” Annie coughed.

Mal grinned. “It’s fine, actually, we can share the room.” They leaned their head onto Annie’s shoulder and wrapped their arms around her waist. “I don’t think I can fall asleep with _out_ Annie next to me, at this point. She kept me safe in there.”

Annie blushed, and kissed Mal’s forehead gently. It was so tender and loving that I wanted to cry. After everything, after what they must’ve gone through together… Flashes of an ancient Martian tomb ran through my mind, tiny islands of comfort in a sea of pain and fatigue: Nureyev sponging blood off my cheek; guiding water to his lips when he was too weak to hold a cup; his fingers closing over mine as I dove into his memory.

Buddy smiled. “Of course, then. It’s this way.” She beckoned for them to follow her. “I imagine you’ll want to freshen up and then get some rest, the showers are this way…” Her voice trailed off as she led the scientists down the hall, arms still wrapped around one another like they never wanted to let go.

Nureyev was frozen in place, staring after where they had disappeared. I didn’t need a Martian mind-reading pill to know what he was thinking just then, because I was thinking it too. _That could’ve been us._

If only I hadn’t left.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Really?” She raised her eyebrows. “Right before the alarm went off? The hidden drive I shouldn’t’a even been able to _see?”_
> 
> “If I say yes, can we move on?”
> 
> “Fine,” she grumbled. “So I copied all the files on that drive, because whoever put ‘em there went to a lotta trouble to hide ‘em and on top’a that they’re all suuuuper encrypted so it must be _really_ important top-secret stuff but then right after I accessed ‘em the alarm on the base went off so mayyyybe that was a teeny tiny bit my fault and I forget where I was goin’ with this, Mista Steel.”
> 
> “RITA.”
> 
> “Oh right!” She cried. “I can’t get into the files!!”

I didn’t do much over the next few days. I wasn’t really in the mood to socialize, and whatever jobs Buddy and Vespa were working on Proxima Centauri didn’t involve me, and so I didn’t get involved. Stayed in my room, mostly. Probably wouldn’t have left it at all if Rita hadn’t barged in two days after our little rescue operation with… a confession. 

“Mista Steel?” The door slid shut behind her and she yelped. Jumped almost a foot in the air, too. God, she was jumpy. Rita was only ever this nervous around me when it was something big. That… wasn’t a good sign. 

“I, uh…” she paused and took a deep breath. “I kinda-sorta-maybe lied to you the otha night and I’m _real_ sorry, Mista Steel, I should’a told you sooner but there was nothin’ to tell, not yet anyways, but there will be I swear ‘cause I _am_ gonna get into those files or my name ain’t _Rita!!”_

“What?!” I asked. “Lied about what, Rita? What files?” 

“Okay well, I guess it wasn’t technically a lie as much as a not-tellin’-you-about-a-thing-I-did-‘cause-I-knew-you-wouldn’-like-it, but then you asked if there was anythin’ about Northstar in the files I got from that space station lab, and, well, there _ain’t_ any mention of Northstar in any’a the files I _can_ get into, but…” 

“But what, Rita.” I wasn’t sure where this was going, but it was the only thing remotely resembling a lead that’d come up since the revelation that the Cerberus Board and Northstar were linked, so I was pretty curious. 

“Mista Steel, do you remember that drive partition I was talkin’ about when we were up there on that base?” 

I sighed. “No, Rita. I don’t even know what that is.” 

“Really?” She raised her eyebrows. “Right before the alarm went off? The hidden drive I shouldn’t’a even been able to _see?”_

“If I say yes, can we move on?” 

“Fine,” she grumbled. “So I copied all the files on that drive, because whoever put ‘em there went to a lotta trouble to hide ‘em and on top’a that they’re all suuuuper encrypted so it must be _really_ important top-secret stuff but then right after I accessed ‘em the alarm on the base went off so mayyyybe that was a teeny tiny bit my fault and I forget where I was goin’ with this, Mista Steel.” 

“RITA.” 

“Oh right!” She cried. “I can’t get into the files!!” 

I was stunned. “Wait, really? That can happen?” 

Rita shrugged. “I’ve tried every program I can think of, boss, and I invented a few new ones when those didn’t work. I’m stumped. It’s like… it’s like a locked door, right? Only I ain’t never seen a lock like this before, it’s like they built the whole door themselves, so only they know what the key looks like an’ where to put it an’ how to turn it.” 

“Well,” I said slowly, “we are on a ship full of crooks. I bet they might know a thing or two about picking locks—let’s go ask ‘em what they think.” 

***

Unfortunately, it turned out most of the crooks weren’t on the ship that morning: Jet was meeting with a potential client, and Buddy and Vespa were out casing a joint, which left us with— 

“Mista Gold!” Rita announced, striding into the galley. “Just the guy I wanted to see.” 

Nureyev grinned wide. “Rita, my dear, you flatter me. I don’t suppose it’s solely to admire my stunning good looks, hmm?” He motioned to the chair next to him, then added, almost as an afterthought, “hello, detective.” 

Rita sat down, but since apparently _I_  wasn’t invited to their little party I figured I might as well get some coffee. The coffee maker on the ship was more… involved than my old model, but I figured it out eventually. 

“So, Miss Rita,” Nureyev purred, “what can I help you with today?” 

“Whadda you know about pickin’ locks?” she asked. 

“Quite a bit, actually.” Nureyev cocked his head to the side. “Why?” 

I almost choked on my drink – thanks to the sudden, uninvited memory of my lips on that exact spot on his neck, in a dark hotel room a couple light-years back. His body over mine, long fingers gripping my wrists, that goddamn _irresistible_ cologne… maybe it was the ache of seeing the tender, loving couple we’d rescued, a harsh reminder of exactly what I’d walked away from. Maybe I was just tired, worn down from the effort of being on constant alert in Nureyev’s presence. Whatever the reason, this time, I just… couldn’t fight it. Couldn’t squash the memories back down and forget. So, I… let myself linger in ‘em a while. 

I tuned back in towards the end of Rita’s tirade. “...and I ain’t never seen anything like it!” 

Nureyev gave a thoughtful hum and pressed his fingertips together. It was a ridiculous, cartoon-villain caricature of a move, but somehow the bastard made it look elegant. “My dear Rita, allow me to tell you about the job I pulled on Kepler-438b. Virgo Vulcanis is a very rich person, as well as a very cocky person. They were just _insufferably_ smug about their supposedly _un_ pickable locks on their _un_ hackable vault; they even rented out lockboxes at exorbitant rates to the upper crust of Keplerians with the assurance that their valuables could never be touched. I decided to prove them wrong,” Nureyev finished with a grin. 

“Ooooh, a heist story!” Rita cried. “I wish I had popcorn. Aw, boss,” she turned to me as she whined, “ _that’s_ what I forgot to pack: my popcorn maker!” She turned back to Nureyev. “I make it real good, too, I got this special spice blend from Saturn—I think maybe they harvest some’a the ring dust or somethin’ ‘cause I’ve never tasted anything else like it, it tastes _just_ like my favorite salmon chips but also kinda spicy but also sweet and—” 

I cut her off with a sigh. “So how’d you get to the vault, Gold?” 

“Posing as a potential client, of course. Once I relieved my tour guide of his duty—and his consciousness—I set about examining the vault. Almost immediately, I deduced that Vulcanis was correct. The lock could not be opened using traditional lockpicks.” 

“What? So how does that help me get through the encryption on these files?” Rita frowned. 

“Patience, my dear.” Nureyev patted her hand. “Fortunately I had on my person a small vial of fluoroantimonic acid – a few drops of that into the lock and the whole thing dissolved away. I waltzed in, took all of Vulcanis’ jewels and gold and nothing belonging to anyone else, and disappeared. I haven’t been back to the Kepler system lately, but the last I heard, they no longer have any clients to rent to.” 

“That’s a nice little story, Gold, but I still don’t see what that has to do with Rita cracking this—” 

“If you can’t navigate your way _through_ an obstacle, my dear detective,” he smiled, “try to find a way to remove it entirely.” 

Rita’s eyes lit up. “That’s IT!” she screeched. “I might not be able to take this software down head-on, but I can stick a virus in it that’ll make it self-destruct!” She whipped out her comms and keyboard and started typing. “Only I gotta make sure it doesn’t delete the files too… gotta set some parameters, build in a failsafe…” she mumbled to herself and typed furiously for a bit. Then the comms beeped. “All set!” 

“You got in? What do the files say?” 

“I’m not in yet, Mista Steel—the program I wrote’ll take a couple’a minutes to run through all the layers of encryption software they got on this drive. Just gotta let it do its thing now.” She set the comms down on the table. 

Behind her, our two newest recruits crept into the room: Annie holding Mal’s hand and guiding them, cautiously, almost as if they thought the place was booby-trapped. 

“It’s alright, we don’t bite,” I called out. 

The sound of a chair scraping against the floor came from my left. Nureyev stood and turned to leave. “Well, time for me to stretch my legs, I think,” he said, flashing a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

I frowned. “Don’t you wanna know what’s in the files?” 

“Not all of us share your indefatigable curiosity, detective. I’m sure I’ll hear all about it soon enough.” His eyes flicked briefly over to the pair of scientists, who were now practically canoodling over by the pantry. “No, I think I need to leave, now. 

Rita, my dear. I hope my advice was of use to you. Ta-ta, all.” 

I watched Annie and Mal make tea together, neither refusing to leave the other’s side for an instant. You’d think it’d be annoying, but it was actually kinda sweet. Something about it was so pure, like they were just fundamentally drawn together, connected by a force as powerful and inescapable as gravity. Once you give into a feeling like that, it’s almost impossible to break away. Almost. 

Rita’s comms beeped again, shaking me out of my thoughts. She grabbed it and cried, “Ha-HA! It worked! Of course I knew it would, but ya never know what—” 

Her eyes grew wide. “Oh my god.” She clapped a hand over her mouth. “Ohmygod, this is _huge!_  This is bigger than the finale of _Procyon 99_ , you know that one where—” 

“WHAT is, Rita,” I growled. 

“They’re _IN CAHOOTS_ , boss! Northstar and the Martian government!!!” 

“What?!” I couldn’t believe it. “What are you talking about?” 

“The whole Theia Soul project was a contract with the Martian Senate! Look, boss!” Rita exclaimed. 

She was right. Financial records, invoices from Northstar to the Martian Finance Bureau, contracts signed by Northstar execs and government officials… It was a mutually-beneficial partnership. Through their little arrangement, the government could outsource unsavory programs they didn’t want linked back to them—like the Theias—to a private company, and Northstar got to utilize government resources and sidestep regulations. The scope of it all was mind-boggling. There was a whole folder on the Theias: “Project Serenity,” it was called. And one on the radiation cure: “Project Panacea,” and about half a dozen others. 

The last folder was the worst of all. “Project Ascension.” They had a plan all laid out to get Ramses O’Flaherty elected President of Mars—which would grant him an automatic seat on the Solar Alliance Senate. “In order to further cement and facilitate this partnership,” the report read. Hyperion City Mayor was just the first step; an important one, sure—it is one of the biggest cities on Mars, after all—but they had everything all charted out until the election next year. Ramses, President of Mars, and a foothold into the Solar government… just the thought of it made my blood run cold. Scared me even though I knew that it would never actually happen, not now. Jack Takano had gone to the one place where couldn’t ruin any more lives, and still his ghost was haunting me. 

My hands were shaking. “Rita, we have to tell the team about this. We have to _do_ something about this! They– they can’t… we can’t _let_ them get away with this!” 

My head spun. I could barely believe what I was looking at. But even if all these documents were real, I realized, we couldn’t prove any of it. With a conspiracy this big, this deep, who would the world believe: a ragtag bunch of criminals, or the biggest entertainment conglomerate on Mars? Plus – if the Martian government really was as implicated as it seemed, we’d be basically putting a price on our heads by releasing this intel. I felt trapped. We had to do _something_. But… what? 

*** 

I paced circles around the cargo bay until the big guy and Buddy and Vespa returned. We gathered around the table in the galley, and Rita showed everyone what she’d found. 

“So…” Rita ventured into the silence. “Whadda we do now?” 

Vespa thumped the table with her fists. “We have to tell the galaxy! We have to stop it, obviously!” 

“Yeah, but – how?” I asked. “If we leak this publicly, the government comes after us. We’re all dead or in jail within the week. If we leak it anonymously, no one’ll buy it. Doesn’t matter if it’s on every stream in the galaxy—Northstar’s anti-information department is too good. Without a credible source, they’ll spin it as a fringe conspiracy theory and it’ll be buried in a matter of days.” 

Buddy frowned thoughtfully. “We need a mouthpiece. Someone that people listen to, that they’ll believe.” 

Nureyev’s eyes lit up. 

“Well, detective,” he grinned, “I can think of at least one man on Mars we both know whose streaming empire commands _quite_ the captive audience.” 

“You don’t mean…” I groaned. “ _Cecil Kanagawa?”_

I thought for a second. “No, won’t work. Nice try, Gold, but even if I _wanted_ to set foot in that nightmare funhouse with you again, there’s no way Cecil would agree to broadcast this. After the election, Kanagawa Productions got bought out by Northstar Entertainment. They own Cecil _and_  Min. They’d shut it down in a heartbeat.” 

There was a pause. Then, Rita piped up. 

“Well, what about Cassandra? She was always the rebel of the family anyway, remember that time on _Catch Up at Casa Kana_ —” 

“She’s a fugitive, Rita!” I cried. “She’s wanted across Mars for murder and jailbreak! How’s she gonna get into Kanagawa studios without getting arrested? Hell, how’s she gonna set foot in _Hyperion_ without getting arrested?” 

Buddy leaned back in her chair, folded her arms, and smiled wide. “With our help, obviously.” 

I couldn’t believe it. “Seriously?!” I looked around the table. Every face was steely and set. 

“Oh my god, we’re really doing this, aren’t we.” I sighed. “Rita, get Cass on the comms. Preferably before I change my mind.” 

*** 

The comms trilled in my ear. 

“He- hello? Rita?” Cassandra sounded nervous. Hell, I would be too, getting a surprise call from the person who busted you outta jail nine months ago. 

“Hey Cass,” I answered. “Long time no talk.” 

“Juno?! Whadda _you_ want?” she yelped. 

“Yeah yeah, missed you too, Cass,” I teased. “You’re welcome, by the way. I told you I’d get you off Mars, didn’t I?” 

“If I knew that meant I’d be forced to the ass-end of the galaxy in hiding, I never would’ve taken you up on it. Now talk – I’m shooting a bit in ten minutes about Plutonian yak smuggling.” 

“Glad you’re keepin’ busy, but listen. I wouldn’t’ve called if it wasn’t important.” I took a breath. “You don’t have to say yes, but, I’m kinda hoping you do. There’s a lot riding on this. It’s not gonna be easy, and it’s _definitely_ gonna be dangerous, but… how’d you like to stick it to both Min _and_ the Martian government with a single, two-minute broadcast?” 

I could practically hear her grin over the comms. “Yeah? I’m listening.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BRING BACK THE KANAGAWAS 2K19.
> 
> also i’m not putting Cass in the tags because i don’t wanna ruin the twist, so hopefully that’s kosher? i don’t know the rules of this place and at this point i’m afraid to learn


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cass rolled her eyes while Nureyev caught mine. He silently mouthed the words, “YOU’RE WELCOME.”
> 
> I flashed back to an argument in a casino bathroom, a year and two fake names ago: “ _You have no_ idea _how much I did to keep the Kanagawas_ off _you, Juno_.” What—so Min set some goons on me or somethin’ after the mask disappeared, and Nureyev intercepted them? How chivalrous of him. Maybe next time he’ll refrain from stealing the thing that’ll piss off mob-boss-Lady Macbeth in the first place.
> 
> I waited until Cass wasn’t looking, and mouthed back, “YOUR FAULT.”

We made a quick stop at the intergalactic spaceport on Proxima b to drop off the scientists. Grateful as they were for being rescued, they weren’t exactly chomping at the bit to join our little band of outlaws. So Buddy, Vespa and I escorted ‘em off of the ship… and that might’ve been the last we ever heard from ‘em, except:

“And, uh, hey,” Vespa stuttered as they turned to leave. “Let’s keep in touch. I– I mean, if you’re gonna keep working on this radiation cure? I think I might have some ideas.”

“Oh!” Annie smiled. “Are you a doctor _too?”_

Vespa blushed, then grumbled, “I don’t have a degree, if that’s what you’re asking. I’m more of a hobbyist. Knowin’ how to patch people up comes in handy in this line of work.”

Mal laughed. “I bet it does. Well, doctor or no, your team’s insight saved our lives, and we won’t ever forget that. The galaxy could do with more people like you all.”

They exchanged comms coordinates, said one final goodbye, and disappeared into the chaos of the crowd. The pair never looked back; they didn’t need to. Wherever they were going? They _definitely_ hadn’t walked that path before, and with a trusted partner by their side, I bet they felt like they could take on anything. Like the tomorrow they’re gonna wake up to will finally be worth showin’ up for.

I thought I had a partner like that, once; but, that was a long time ago, and they… hell, it doesn’t matter. I learned not to trust big promises and empty gestures, picked up the shattered pieces of the life I thought I was gonna have, and shoved ‘em in the back of my closet next to the gown I never got to wear. I moved on.

Besides, happy endings only exist in fairy tales. They’re not real, no matter how bad you wish they were. So keep your head down, Steel. Keep moving. Finish the job.

Don’t get hurt.

***

Cassandra Kanagawa was, for the moment, on TRAPPIST-1e, so that’s where we headed. Cass had left Mars several months ago with the contents of her bank account and a hastily-assembled false identity; she shaved her head, used her skill with prosthetics to disguise her face, and disappeared to a sector where with enough creds, discretion could be bought and celebrity held no sway. It worked as a refuge for a while, but that girl had a creative bug that just couldn’t be squashed. So, she figured:

“If I’m gonna be on the run for however long I got left out here, why not try to make the thing I’ve always wanted? Show the galaxy all the crazy ways people’ve figured out how to survive out here.” She shrugged. “And, if it keeps me moving around, not staying in any one place long enough to get caught, well, I won’t complain. I’m gettin’ real sick of looking over my shoulder every time I step out for a goddamn drink.”

“And you’re sure you’re willing to risk all that to help us expose Northstar?” I raised an eyebrow. Not that I wasn’t grateful—I just wanted her to know what she was getting into.

“Oh, come now, detective,” Nureyev purred. “There’s no need to worry. Cassandra will be perfectly safe in our care.”

I shot him a look. “I’m not _worried_ , I’m being honest. Just makin’ sure Cass knows what she’s signing up for.”

Buddy and I had agreed that it’d probably be best if our welcome wagon rolled in carrying a familiar face or two; so Vespa and Buddy waited half a mile away with the shuttle while Nureyev and I met Cass in her hotel room. She had been understandably confused to see me with ‘Agent Glass’ again; it took a bit of convincing to get her to accept that no, he wasn’t really working with Dark Matters but yes, he could be trusted. And most importantly: yes, we really did need her help if we were gonna pull this thing off.

“Yes, Juno,” Cass snapped, “I told you yes over the comms, didn’t I? Don’t treat me like a kid.”

We waited while Cass shoved a couple things in a bag, messaged her cameraperson that she’d be off-planet for a couple days, and pulled on her boots. Then Nureyev ushered her out the door and we headed for the shuttle.

“Y’know, Juno,” Cass frowned, “I’m kinda surprised _you’re_ daring to set foot inside Casa Kanagawa again, after what happened.”

“Yeah, well, I’m banking on Cecil being over his ancient-torture-machines phase by now,” I replied. “Trends in Hyperion City never last longer than a week, so, I think I’m good.”

“Not that,” she scoffed. “Dad’s mask going missing from _your_ custody? I heard Min wasn’t too happy with you after that, and bad things tend to happen to people Min doesn’t like.”

“Really?” That took me by surprise. “…Huh. I wouldn’t’ve thought Min cared about all the junk Croesus collected.” I shrugged. “Well, she never said boo to me about the mask, so…”

Cass rolled her eyes while Nureyev caught mine. He silently mouthed the words, “YOU’RE WELCOME.”

I flashed back to an argument in a casino bathroom, a year and two fake names ago: “ _You have no_ idea _how much I did to keep the Kanagawas_ off _you, Juno_.” What—so Min set some goons on me or somethin’ after the mask disappeared, and Nureyev intercepted them? How chivalrous of him. Maybe next time he’ll refrain from stealing the thing that’ll piss off mob-boss-Lady Macbeth in the first place.

I waited until Cass wasn’t looking, and mouthed back, “YOUR FAULT.”

***

Back on the ship, everyone settled in around the big table in the galley. Buddy stood at its head, a direct echo of our first meeting that jumpstarted this whole misadventure.

Before Buddy could begin directing the troops, Cass pointed at Jet. “I want that one as my bodyguard.”

I snorted. “Yeah? Well, in that case, I want Vespa as mine.” I jerked a thumb towards the green-haired assassin, who rolled her eyes.

“Real funny, Steel,” Cass snapped. “Could you be serious for once in your stupid life?”

“Hey, I’m not kidding,” I countered. “When we first met, Vespa single-handedly took down Buddy and the big guy. Would’ve come for me, next, if—”

“That’s enough.” Buddy’s voice was sharp, but calm. “Juno. Cassandra. Focus, please.

“Now, Cassandra, which of the mansion’s six recording studios is most likely to be left unguarded?”

“Hmm…” Cass frowned. “Probably Cecil’s workshop, honestly. Half the staff are too scared to go in there, and the other half got banned after they tried to file for Workperson’s Comp. Somethin’ about not signing up to be beta testers for his shows in their contracts,” she laughed. “As if they could ever prove that.”

“Alright, then; that is our target. We will enter the mansion through the staff entrance, disguised as a catering crew. Vespa, darling, you and Julius will take point; Jet will escort Cassandra next, followed by Juno and Rita, and I’ll bring up the rear. The hall to the right should be our quickest route to—”

“Actually,” Nureyev cut in, “I believe that wing was sealed off last year—Min turned it into a gift shop, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Wow, _Rex_ , didn’t realize you still had the Kanagawas’ floor plan memorized,” I grumbled.

Nureyev winked. “Of course! A gentleman never forgets.”

“I thought that was elephants…?” Rita wondered aloud.

“Hang on,” Cass blurted out. “You memorized the layout of my _house?”_ She glared at Nureyev. “You’re even weirder than I remember, Agent Shades.”

“People,” Buddy snapped. “Please.

“We move quickly and quietly: get in, get out, don’t get hurt. Cassandra records her statement, and the moment we’re out the door, we hit the broadcast button.” Buddy grinned. “Now let’s go tell the world the truth.”

***

It was a few more hours, at least, before we landed on Mars; I spent most of ‘em pacing circles around the living room. Then, the door slid open and Nureyev was there, frozen in the doorway.

“Juno, I…” he stepped gingerly into the room. “I wanted to apologize.”

Huh? “For what?”

“Those scientists we liberated—watching them be tender and loving in the aftermath of their imprisonment was… rather painful for me. It reminded me of what we could have had, what I wish we’d gotten the chance to have.”

“Wow, this is a hell of an apology, Nureyev, you gonna sock me in the gut next?” I snorted.

“Please, Juno, let me finish.” He closed his eyes briefly. “Seeing them together was hard, but it also made me realize that… perhaps I was unfair to you. Asking you to make such a hugely life-changing decision, in the aftermath of all we’d endured with Miasma, with the alternative being I’d never see you again… it’s not an easy choice.”

He took a breath. “I haven’t had a home for so long that I’d forgotten what it feels like to give one up. I just… I wanted so badly to show you all the wonders of the galaxy that I couldn’t see the difficulty of the position I was putting you in. So, I apologize.”

“Wow, uh…” I trailed off. “I never really thought of it like… um, thanks, Nureyev.

“And… I am sorry for the way I left, y’know, without saying anything. But…” I forced myself to keep going. “I don’t think I regret not leaving Mars with you.”

The look on his face just then almost broke me in two. Every cell in my body was screaming at me to fix it, to take it back, but– that’s not how life works. You can’t just smooth over the hard parts with a kiss and a platitude. So, I took a breath and kept talking.

“Not then, anyway—it would’ve been a mess. I mean, I wanted to go, sure, because I wanted _you_. But, a relationship is more than just being wrapped up in the smell of some guy’s cologne, and… I don’t think the Juno Steel of a year ago would’ve known how to have a relationship with someone who steals for a living. ‘Cause, stealing is bad, right, and the old Juno Steel wanted to do good. ‘Opposite sides,’” I laughed, bitterly. “It just… it wouldn’t have worked.”

The silence stretched on for what felt like forever.

“But now?” Nureyev’s voice was barely a whisper. “What does the new Juno Steel want?”

I wanted to say _you, still you, it’s been you all this time and I’m so goddamn terrified of losing you but I’m_ finally _ready to try ‘cause I can’t stand not knowing_ —

“To… help people,” I said slowly. “Anyone that needs help. ‘Cause it’s not as simple as good or bad, right or wrong, but… if I can make one person’s life better somehow, then… that’s something.”

I could feel his eyes on me, so bright and sharp I thought they’d burn holes straight through me. When I glanced up, though, he turned away. Like I’d caught him doing something he shouldn’t, and he actually had the decency to be embarrassed by it.

“Oh, Juno,” he sighed quietly, “you have _got_ to stop making me fall in love with you.”

“I… wha?”

He didn’t get the opportunity to explain, because just then the intercom crackled to life. “Attention, crew,” Buddy’s voice rang out, “our pilot informs me that we’ll be breaking atmo in just under ten minutes, so I’m going to need all hands in the shuttle pod in five. Do be punctual, please.”

“Well?” Nureyev grinned. “After you, detective.”


	7. Chapter 7

Less than an hour later and we were all barreling down the hallways of Casa Kanagawa – Vespa and Buddy in front; followed by Jet, acting every bit like Cass’ bodyguard; then me and Nureyev dragging Rita up the rear. Behind us was the reason we were hauling ass: three Kanagawa security guards in hot pursuit, each one variations on a theme of broad shoulders, bulging muscles, and quick tempers.

Couldn’t say the same for their wits, though—it had taken almost twenty minutes for security to notice anything out of the ordinary, but eventually someone must’ve figured out the mansion’s video feeds were being looped. Rita’s good, but even she can’t make things appear on camera that aren’t really there; so when the regular first-floor guard rotation didn’t show, they sent a backup crew to check out why – leaving _our_ crew stuck between a meteorite and a hard place. 

“This way!” Buddy called out, veering sharply to the right. We all followed, tumbling into what looked like an unused dressing room. 

I whirled back towards the door and instantly locked eyes with a very large barrel at the end of a very large blaster. Then I looked up at the very, _very_ large woman holding it. “Heeyyyy, I know you,” she drawled. “You’re, uh, that detective guy. Yeah, back from when the ol’ boss man bit it.” She cocked the gun and leered. “Min’s gonna _love_ to see y—”

“Don’t you _touch him!”_

I still don’t know where he came from. He—Nureyev—came flying outta nowhere, a long, thin blade gleaming like ice in his hand. And then he dove at the guard, _right_ as her finger squeezed down on the trigger. 

There was a deafening bang and a burst of bright light and then… 

Time stops. 

I can’t move, can’t think, can barely understand what I’m seeing as Nureyev’s body jerks backwards – like there’s an invisible rope around his middle being tugged by some giant hand. He falls slowly, in a perfect, silent arc; and all I can do is stand there, frozen, trapped inside an eon that spans the blink of an eye. 

Then he hits the ground. 

“PETER!” 

I dive after him, grabbing his limp body and dragging us both behind a desk in the corner. Blaster fire somewhere ricochets over my head, but… I don’t care. I can’t care. Nureyev’s been hit, and I… have to make sure he’s okay. He _has_ to be okay. He _can’t_ be— 

I shake that thought off and try to find his pulse. My hands are moving entirely on their own; meanwhile, my head’s full of static and I can’t feel my fingers and I’m pretty sure I stopped breathing minutes ago but none of that matters ‘cause I _have_ to find his pulse. _He_ has _to be okay_ , I tell myself. _He has to be okay. He has to_ — 

And then suddenly, without warning, it’s there: a faint but definite _thrum, thrum, thrum_ under my fingertips. 

All the sensation that got sucked out of me when he got hit comes rushing back all at once. It’s overwhelming, and for a second I struggle to stay upright, but gradually, time starts to feel like it’s moving again. 

“Oh thank god,” I sighed. “Just stunned. You’re just stunned.”

I tapped his cheek, lightly. “C’mon, Nureyev, wake up…” My voice broke. “Look, we gotta go now, so you gotta wake up.” Nothing. I grabbed him by the shoulders and shook. “Wake up!” I hissed. “Nureyev, come _on_ —” 

He gasped, then his eyes fluttered open. He looked at me, a little dazed at first – and then he smiled. God, what that smile did to me… and his cologne, that goddamn smell that got inside my head like nothing else. He was so close, and I just _wanted_ … I wanted… 

“Oh, Juno,” said Nureyev. “To hell with it. Come here.” He grabbed my collar and kissed me. 

It was electric; like bright sunlight after days underground, like a gulp of cold water when you’re dying of thirst. Every nerve in my body was on fire, and I never wanted it to end. For _so_ long I thought I’d never get to have this again, but now? If I could, I’d be kissing Peter Nureyev for the rest of my life. 

Somewhere, distantly, I heard footsteps. “You idiots have the _worst_ timing,” Vespa snorted as she walked by. “Come on.” 

***

We were four hallways over and two floors up, closing in on our target, when a shrill outburst stopped all of us in our tracks. 

“Just… what on Mars is going on here?! Who are you people? Don’t you _know_ where you are??” 

I sighed. I’d recognize those hysterics anywhere: Cecil Kanagawa. 

I started reaching slowly for my blaster, when Cass stepped out of Jet’s shadow. “Cecil.” She took a couple tentative steps forward. “They’re with me.” 

“Cassandra!” Cecil gasped. “Oh, I’ve missed you _so_ much! You have _no idea_ what it’s been like here since you left – it’s so dreadfully _boring_.” He tilted his head. “But… what _are_ you doing here?” 

“I’m, uh…” she coughed. “We’re leaking intel on Northstar Entertainment and the Martian government.” 

“Ooh, how scanda– wait just a second.” Cecil frowned. “Northstar? As in, the company that owns Kanagawa Productions?” 

The silence that followed was tenser than an HCPD rookie on their first beat in Oldtown. No one moved, but we were all thinking it: _am I really gonna have to stun Cecil Kanaga_ — 

“What a twist!” he cried. “What _drama!_ The ratings will be _glorious_.” He clapped his hands together and grinned maniacally. “Let’s do it.” 

Cecil led us the rest of the way through his creepy-ass workshop and into the recording studio. He must’ve given the Cameramen the day off, because the place was dead silent and empty as a tomb. Come to think of it, it did seem a lot less cluttered than the last time I’d been here. 

“Oh hey, you redecorated,” I commented. “What’s the matter, Cecil, bladed-death-chairs and guillotines not in style this season?” 

He glanced back at me, smirking. “Oh, you’re not still mad about that silly show, are you? I _told_ you, I was _making_ you a—” 

“You tried to kill us!” 

“ _Please_ , Junebug,” he pouted. “I knew you’d make it out alright.” Cecil put his bionic hand on my shoulder in what I think was supposed to be a comforting gesture, but missed the mark by at least a light-year. Out of the corner of my eye, I could sense Nureyev staring daggers at him. 

“Oh! My apologies, Agent,” Cecil crooned. “So you two finally got together, hmmm?” He raised an eyebrow. “It’s about time.” 

I choked. “I– uh, we– um,” I stammered. 

Before I could incriminate myself further, Cecil turned on his heel and sashayed off towards the set. He flipped a switch on some console and a bunch of equipment hummed to life; meanwhile, Cass plugged in the drive Rita had loaded with all the Northstar files and got to work programming them into the stream. She glanced up a couple times, biting her lip and watching Cecil as he adjusted the lighting and reapplied his makeup. Was she nervous? Getting cold feet? I’d known Cassandra for several years and I don’t think I’d ever seen her take anything this seriously before—outside of her documentary idea, anyway. _She cares about this job_ , I realized with a jolt. _Maybe as much as the rest of us_. 

“Alright, people,” Cecil called out. “It’s showtime!” He strode onto the stage and struck a dramatic pose. Then the lights dimmed, the stupidly-catchy intro music burst out of the speakers, and… the show began. 

“Elders and gentlechildren! Viewers of all ages!” Cecil’s voice was suddenly booming, echoing as if magnified – though I hadn’t seen him blink, let alone move to raise a microphone to his face. “This is Cecil Kanagawa, coming to you tonight with a _very_ special guest.” He glanced off-camera and wiggled one long, chrome finger, gesturing for Cass to join him. “Please welcome… my dear sister, Cassandra.” 

Cass blinked, and the devil-may-care jaded-heiress persona was back. She sauntered into frame like a schoolyard bully surveying the holo-playground for today’s target. “Hey Mars.” She gave the camera the briefest of nods. “Miss me?” 

Cecil threw an arm around Cass and beamed at the camera. “Cassandra has come here all the way from—now, where did you say you’ve been hiding out, again?” 

“I didn’t,” Cass deadpanned. A burst of recorded laughter echoed through the room. 

I spun around, searching for the source of the noise. “Wha– how does he _do_ that?!” I spluttered. “He didn’t move a muscle!” 

“Aaanyway,” Cecil pressed on, “my sister has joined me here in our studio because of some _very_ exciting intel that’s been uncovered—and who better to bring you the freshest, juiciest gossip than the Kanagawas?” 

This isn’t _gossip_ , you airhead,” Cass snapped. “We have proof. This is real, breaking news, comin’ to you hot, so heads up, Mars.” She folded her arms. “Northstar Entertainment, the same company that bought out my family’s empire, that’s buyin’ up every corporation worth a damn on this dusty red rock, has a secret partnership with the Martian government. We’re being played.” 

A loud gasp played over the speakers, the invisible audience in this performance playing their part to a tee. “Dammit Cecil, would you cut that out? This isn’t a joke.” Cass glared at him. 

“Cassie, honey,” Cecil crooned, “I know you think you’re an _artiste_ now, with your guerilla-style documentaries and your whole fugitive-on-the-run aesthetic, but please. Leave the production work to me. I’ve been creating chart-topping streams since age seven; I _think_ I know what I’m doing.” He paused for a minute to beam at the camera. “You were saying?” 

“Right. So.” Cass cleared her throat. “Some friends of mine have obtained official records that spell out the connection between Northstar and the government. And we’re gonna release ‘em all, right here on this channel. ‘Cause what they’re doing isn’t just illegal, it’s… wrong. Manipulative. And after a lifetime of being manipulated, I won’t just stand by and…” 

As Cass ranted on, Nureyev’s eyes lit up. I could almost see the proverbial bulb above his head blink on; he turned to Rita and whispered a long stream into her ear. She nodded excitedly and whipped out her comms. Then Nureyev dug through his pockets, pulled out a crumpled sheet of paper and a pen, and started scribbling. When he was done, he shoved the paper into Cecil’s hands. 

“Ah, what’s th–” Cecil’s eyes darted over the sheet in front of him, then he cleared his throat and turned back to the camera with all the fluidity of a Uranian smoke eel. “And remember, viewers at home, if _you _need an authoritarian regime toppled, an evil corporation invaded, or any other Goliath brought to their knees in an… extralegal way, just ask for Sun, Ice, and Steel,” he ended with a flourish. “Look ‘em up.” He winked. “Good night, Hyperion.”__

____

____

The music cut out and Cecil strolled off-set, serene as anything. Slowly, everyone turned to stare at Nureyev. 

“Uh… Gold?” Vespa frowned. “What was that?” 

“Oh! The infinitely-talented Rita has just made us a webapp,” Nureyev replied. “Totally secure, of course; an encrypted digital repository for job requests that the team can accept or decline as they see fit. He shrugged. “I just thought we might as well get some free publicity out of this whole ordeal, hmm?” 

Buddy blinked. “Well,” she remarked. “I didn’t know you were such an enterprising businessman, Julius.” A quirk of her lips slowly grew into a genuine smile. “Does this mean you plan to continue working with us for the foreseeable future? After all, I didn’t hear _your_ name on that list.” 

“Ah, well,” he deflected with a wave of his hand, “Gold isn’t my real name anyway.” Then he looked right at me, with those bright eyes that felt like they could pierce through steel. 

“But… yes,” he said quietly. “Yes, I think I would like to stay a while.” 

***

It turned out Cecil was right—the ratings were glorious. Cass and Cecil’s broadcast, along with the folder full of Northstar’s secret files, quickly became the most-downloaded stream of all time. It was all anyone could talk about: the corruption, the deception, the sheer nerve… ‘How _could_ they?’ everyone cried. ‘How _dare_ they?’ But they did. They did and no one stopped them. 

____

____

And then, on day three of nonstop media outrage, something incredible began: the consequences. 

It started small, but soon the streams were flooded with news of so many arrests, resignations, and indictments that I stopped keeping track. The greatest reward, though, came through Rita’s comms on a quiet morning about two weeks in. 

“Boss, boss! Where are you?” her voice echoed from the hallway. “You _gotta_ hear this!” 

“In here, Rita,” I called out. The big couch was surprisingly comfortable, and I had nowhere particular to be that day, so, I let her come to me. 

“You’re gonna be _so exciii_ – oh, hey there, Mista Gold.” 

Nureyev’s voice hummed from somewhere above my right ear. “Hello, Miss Rita. It seems you have some news?” 

“Yeah!” she cried. “Listen to this!” She pressed play and a brisk, TV-reporter voice spilled out into the air: “Media monolith Northstar Entertainment to permanently close, reports say. I’m Hawk Hackett, and this is a special announcement from…” 

“We did it,” I whispered, as Rita’s comms babbled on. I could barely believe it, but… “We actually did it.” 

“Congratulations, detective,” Nureyev murmured, pressing a quick kiss to the top of my head. “I’m _so_ proud of you.” 

I groaned. “D’you have to be such a sap?” 

“If you don’t like it, dear, you’re welcome to get off my lap and sit elsewhere,” he teased. “It’s a big ship, after all.” 

“…I like this spot,” I grumbled. “It’s comfy.” 

Nureyev laughed at that, bright and high and I could feel his chest vibrating against my back. It was… nice. Felt kinda like coming home. 

Home. After all my hears in Hyperion, I never thought I’d find another place that felt like home to me; sure, you stay in one place long enough, you learn its patterns, its quiet comforts and shiny façades and hidden dangers, and you settle in. Get comfortable. But I never thought I could feel… like I _belonged_ anywhere else. 

When you grow up on its streets, no matter how rough or dirty or mean, a city becomes your home. You find the gentler parts of town and hang on tight; you figure out how to steer clear of the harsher parts – when you can; and you wait for your city to love you back. To validate your choice to stay when you never felt like you had much choice. Better the devil you know, and all that. 

I became a Hyperion City cop, and then a Private Eye, ‘cause I believed that my job was to try to fix the city. And no, I’m not stupid enough to think that I was gonna single-handedly save the place; that if I just caught enough bad guys and saved enough bystanders that Hyperion would magically get better. I just felt in my bones that I had to keep trying. To do good, or don’t bother doing anything. Don’t bother continuing to stick around. 

And now? I guess I’m finally ready to see what that second option looks like—not in the way I used to think about it, I mean. I’m not lookin’ to check out early, these days. More like… I wanna see what else is out there worth doing. 

My thoughts were interrupted by our resident doctor-slash-assassin stomping her way into the common area. 

“Hey, Vespa,” I called out. “How’s the radiation research going?” 

“Hit another wall,” she sighed. “But, I think if we could somehow combine the biokinetics of the compound we’ve developed with the physical repellent properties of a Dome’s protective shield, we’d have a real shot.” 

I got an idea. “You need a sample of Dome tech?” 

“Yeah, exactly.” She hesitated. “Why? You know where to get one?” 

I shrugged. “I might. Jet still up on the bridge?” 

“Should be. Again: why?” 

I got up and headed to the intercom panel by the door. Behind me, Nureyev made a small “hmph!” of protest at the loss of contact; he’d been doing it _every_ time I pulled away to go do somethin’ and it was getting ridiculous, but… hell, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t kinda like it. 

I punched a button. “Hey big guy, you there?” 

His deep voice crackled through the intercom. “Yes, Juno, what do you need?” 

“Just an answer. Do you remember exactly where you found me out in the Martian desert?” 

“Of course.” 

“Great.” I grinned. “Looks like we’ve got our next job.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. my HC is that back in Promised Land p3, Pilot dropped the Dome sample inside the cave before the Free Dome entrance, back when Juno and Strong ‘swept [them] off [their] feet’—which makes this ending muuuuuch less creepy and morbid than the team digging up a dead body in the Martian desert just to grab some potentially-groundbreaking tech.  
> 2\. government = bad, corporations = bad  
> 3\. BE GAY DO CRIMES
> 
> p.s. if you read this far then THANK YOU for coming on this bonkers brain journey with me, hope you enjoyed the ride


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